


Read the Room

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Duct Tape, Established Relationship, Gags, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "They both share that, really" means that sometimes it takes a bit to figure out who's in charge for the night.Harry's got a weakness for being taped up, though.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 145
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Unicorns





	Read the Room

**Author's Note:**

> I think this sort of fic might be a thing that happens when I drink wine.

Sometimes, the fact that Louis and Harry  _ share that, really, _ is an issue.

It’s good that they’re flexible (physically and emotionally), and Harry is  _ very _ glad he’s ended up with someone who’s okay with topping and bottoming as the situation calls for it, but there are some times when the both of them have an urge that… is in conflict with the other.

In other words, on a night like tonight where both Harry and Louis are in the mood to top.

Over their years together, though, they’ve come up with a rather unconventional solution to the issue.

— 

“The rules  _ are,” _ Louis declares, “No duct tape on the pubes.”

“It was an  _ accident,” _ Harry whines. “And we decided to wear pants to avoid that now, anyway!”

They sit across from each other on the bed, dressed only in their pants, two rolls of duct tape in the center between them.

“The rules are  _ also _ that one of us gets dicked down  _ good, _ tonight,” Louis adds.

“Write another song about it, why don’t you?” Harry says with a grin.

“All the best dickings down deserve songs,” Louis says. “Now, ready in three… two… one…”

They both lunge for the tape at the same time, Harry’s long arms giving him a small advantage. He uses this advantage to lunge forward, knocking Louis onto his back and pinning down his arms. 

The issue now is that he needs to get the tape unrolled, which is difficult to do with Louis squirming under him.

He manages to get the edge unstuck but doesn’t get further before Louis’ wrapped his legs around Harry’s middle and used that leverage to unsteady him, knocking Harry to the side just enough to reclaim the use of his arms. 

Louis’ own roll of duct tape doesn’t seem to be giving him the trouble that Harry’s own is, and he’s got a long strip free almost immediately. He knocks Harry down onto his elbows and uses the moment to wrap the tape around Harry’s chest and right bicep. It doesn’t really do much to dissuade Harry except to make him hiss at the way it tugs at his chest hair, and in retaliation he grabs at Louis’ wrist, tugging it up against his shoulder and trying to tape his arm in place.

Louis’ always been better than Harry at this game. 

In what feels like only a moment Harry finds himself on his back, Louis having thrown himself sideways and flipped them, the tape that Harry had wrapped around his arm already crumpled and unstuck. Harry sucks in a breath as Louis mounts his torso, tearing off a long strip of tape and this time wrapping it all the way from one arm to the other, pinning his upper arms to his sides.

Louis’ always been better than Harry at this game, and it could be in part because when Harry gets turned on his brain turns to veritable mush. 

Still, he tries. 

“You’re cute when you’re being dominating,” Harry says, craning his neck up to land a kiss on Louis’ mouth. Louis chases it with his own and Harry takes the opportunity to grab at Louis’ ankle, wrapping tape haphazardly around to his thigh — it’s not tight by any means but it could hold for a moment at least. 

“You play dirty,” Louis grins at him. “I suppose I can’t let that happen.” He tears off a smaller strip and, with both hands, smooths it over Harry’s lips. 

Harry giggles behind the tape. He could just lick it off, although it would taste disgusting, but when Louis gets going, honestly the last thing Harry wants to do is derail him.

Because he’s no longer as interested in topping tonight. Instead, the chance to get rather thoroughly  _ taken care of _ by Louis has piqued his interests.

Harry makes a show of unrolling another long strip of tape behind Louis — as Louis is still sitting on his chest, his legs bracketing Harry’s sides — and Louis takes notice, reaching back and easily plucking the roll from Harry’s hands and throwing it off the bed.

Harry shivers.

“Won’t need that anymore,” Louis says. He pulls another length of tape from his roll and reaches behind him, trapping one of Harry’s hands and maneuvering his arm out from under his leg. Harry watches with cheeks growing hot as Louis curls Harry’s fingers together and wraps his hand thoroughly in tape.

He unrolls another strip and pulls Harry’s other hand forward, giving it the same treatment.

“You love this,” Louis mutters, looking up and catching Harry’s eye. “Just want to be tied up and used, don’t you? No hope of escape or chance to defend yourself.”

He unrolls the tape and uses another strip to firmly secure Harry’s wrists together. Harry pulls at them, feeling how useless his hands have become. He whimpers a little, feeling Louis shift back, his ass meeting Harry’s hard cock, straining against his pants. 

“I’m not nearly ready yet,” Louis says, grinding back against Harry. “You brought this on yourself, after all.”

He unrolls a long strip and uses it to secure Harry’s hands up against his sternum, his arms folded as if in prayer, the tape wrapping around to his backside as Louis’ strong fingers knead into his the skin of his shoulderblades against the bed. 

Louis’ not significantly smaller than Harry, but at moments like this it feels so obvious, the muscles of his thighs clenching against Louis’ hips, his biceps flexing as he grabs at Harry’s waist and lifts his pelvis just enough to turn Harry onto his stomach. 

Harry lets out a groan as his cheek hits the mattress. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Louis pivot so he’s sitting backward on Harry’s lower back, the single pathetic strip of duct tape that Harry had gotten around his thigh already flying loose. 

Louis plants one hand firmly on Harry’s asscheek, digging in his fingers firmly and making Harry squeak as he uses it for leverage to lean forward and grab at one of Harry’s ankles, pulling it back and folding the leg neatly. 

“Need to keep someone like you folded up and tied up,” Louis says, stretching out another piece of tape to wrap around his ankle to his thigh once, twice, three times. “That’s what you need. To be made so thoroughly useless that all you can do is take what I give you.” 

He plants his hand again on Harry’s ass and grabs at his other leg to do the same.

“You’re no better than a toy, a warm hole for me to use as I please.” 

Harry shivers, involuntarily clenching his thighs and feeling the strain of the tape against them. 

“You like that, don’t you? Of course you do, you know there’s nothing you want more than to be filled and fucked by me.”

Harry nods into the mattress, emitting pathetic whimpers. That’s exactly what he wants. 

Louis dismounts him, getting behind Harry on the bed and neatly folding his taped legs under his torso, to join his restrained arms. 

His whimpers get louder as he feels Louis pull his pants down below his asscheeks, hears the snick of a cap and a shockingly cold feeling as his entrance. 

The first time Louis pushes in, he’s gentle. The second time, he’s not. Harry can do nothing except to present himself to Louis to be used as he’s pounded into without mercy. Louis’ hands grip as his hips and Harry moans in time with the thrusts. He might as well be a doll, used and abused with no will of his own.

“I’ll fill your hole and leave you leaking,” Louis says. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be tied up tight and paralyzed, used and left when I’m satisfied?”

Harry whimpers, his noises getting higher pitched as Louis speeds up and his own cock lays neglected, trapped between his legs and his pants. 

“Maybe I’ll plug you up and leave you here, come back and fill you up some more when I… when I need to,” Louis says, his words getting a little less clear, punctuated by groans. 

His hips stutter and Harry feels when Louis spills inside of him, warm and full. He clenches around Louis’ cock as he rides through the aftershocks before, eventually, pulling out and falling to the side of Harry on the bed.

Harry whimpers pathetically, now almost eye to eye with Louis’ sleepy glances. He rolls his hips to get some sort of traction against his aching, leaking cock (although it does little good).

“I should leave you like this,” Louis says with a yawn and Harry moans, straining against all the tape in a way that gets him impossibly more turned on. 

Louis turns and, to Harry’s relief, reaches a hand between his legs and grips his cock, giving him stuttering, fast strokes. It doesn’t take long before Harry’s coming, whimpering into his taped mouth as Louis helps him through orgasm and strokes him a little past where comfortable, his come already drying inside his pants.

“Good toy,” Louis says, his voice deeper and rougher, the way it gets when he’s sleepy. He pulls his hand away and turns onto his back, reaching toward the bedside table and opening the top drawer. “A reward, for being so useless.”

It’s the silver plug, which Harry knows by how cold it is when Louis presses it against his entrance a moment later. He shivers, whimpering at the contact as Louis pushes it in. 

“Holding everything in place,” Louis mumbles, putting his palm against the plug and rubbing it in circles, making Harry sob with oversensitivity. “Just for me.”

Louis’ eyes all but close, and he turns onto his side so that he’s facing Harry. “Maybe next time this game will finally end a different way,” he says, but his smirk suggests he knows it’s not true. 

Harry’s ashamed to admit he’s halfway to ready for round two as Louis drifts off to sleep, and can do nothing about it as he lays there immobile and used, plugged and gagged and hoping that Louis doesn’t leave him like this  _ all _ night.

(Or hoping he does).


End file.
